Presenting: Lily Evans and The Mischief Makers
by TheLostWeasley1
Summary: Lily Evans is looking forward to a quiet summer at home. James Potter can't wait to escape school and look for adventure at Quidditch camp. But then James's plans get cancelled and he decides to spend the summer at home with his three best friends. What are four guys to do in the country alone? Well, form a rock band, what else! And they still really need a guitarist ...
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

The house appeared between the trees quite suddenly, just round a sharp bend. The leaves of the oak trees had turned a rich green since he'd last seen them and a light breeze ruffled his black hair as James Potter rolled down the car window and leaned out. They had left Godric's Hollow and the portkey-pick up far behind – out here, the sloping lawns and gardens belonged only to the Potters' residence – it was home and James's kingdom for the summer.

A grin creased the corners of James's mouth as he watched the house grow bigger, open windows and rose bushes coming into focus. The house elves had surely already cooked a delicious welcoming dinner for him and he could see his mother waiting on the front steps, wearing bright red robes and waving.

"Almost home, Master James," said Bernie, the driver. Of course, the Ministry of Magic had provided a car for the occasion of James's homecoming. It always paid to know people in high places, thought James, and his father was the Head of the Auror Department at the Ministry, which was almost as high as you could get.

"Can't wait, Bernie," replied James, throwing himself back into his seat with a contented sigh. "Two months of nothing but sleeping in and playing Quidditch."

The other wizard smiled politely into the rearview mirror. "Your father mentioned you were going to Rico Escarill's training camp in Ireland next week?"

"That's right," said James, feeling excitement bubble up in his stomach. "I'll be the best seeker there, no doubt, but Rico might be able to show me a trick or two I don't know yet." Rico Escarill just happened to be the most famous Quidditch player of the decade, securing a contract as seeker for the Rockwell Blackbirds at the age of sixteen and proceeding to make the fastest Snitch catch in the United Quidditch league twenty-two seconds into his first game. Yes, thought James, it would be a very good summer indeed.

A few moments later, Bernie had pulled up outside the Potters' house and James immediately leapt out of the car. His mother beamed as he hugged her. "You've gotten even taller since Christmas!" she said. "Stop growing or I'll have to put a Freezing charm on you. How was the journey?"

James grinned and pulled out the embrace. "Fun. Padfoot, Wormtail and Moony came as far as London and then I had Lily Evans' wonderful company for the trip to Godric's Hollow." He rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Potter looked up her son slyly through her silver-streaked brown fringe. "Do you still have a crush on that girl?"

James's face reddened instantly. "I do _not – _why does everyone keep saying -," he interrupted himself and swallowed, trying to regain some composure. "She's annoying, Mum. Only interested in books and magical creatures."

"I always thought she was a nice girl," said Mrs. Potter as Bernie carried James's trunk and owl cage up the wide front steps. "You used to play with her before you went to Hogwarts, don't you remember? Always out in the gardens, you two, building tree houses and chasing pixies. Actually, I quite hoped I would see more of her once you'd grown up a bit. Why don't you invite her for dinner sometime this week? She must be around for the holidays. Poor girl," she added musingly, her eyes straying back up the road to where the Godric's Hollow was, "to be a witch born into an all-Muggle family can't be easy."

"I told you, Mum: We're not friends anymore," replied James. "Lily's a prefect now and completely uptight and boring. Besides," he added, "I have to maintain my honour as coolest guy in school."

His mother laughed. "From the letters I've gotten about you this year, I think we need to redefine what you mean by honour. That letter about Miss McKinnon and the toilet seat –Professor Greybeard must have had a good laugh when he heard about that."

Remembering his punishment for that particular trick – weeding Greybeard's Forunculus Stinkarus patch in the vegetable patch and the boils he had gotten from their disgusting grey feelers – James merely shuddered. "He's evil, that one."

"And you're a little mischief-maker," said Mrs. Potter, ruffling James's hair affectionately. "Come inside and eat. Elfie has made your favourite – pumpkin and steak casserole and some treacle tart for dessert!" She turned to the Ministry driver by the steps. "Thank you so much for picking up James, Bernie. I hope you have a lovely day!" She waved her wand and there was the chink of coins as Bernie's right jacket pocket bulged.

"Thank you, Ma'am," said Bernie with a little bow and Mrs. Potter shut the front door just as the first orange rays of the setting sun hit the windows. They flooded the entrance hall with light and as his mother bustled off to the kitchen to check on dinner, James simply stood and looked around, taking in the familiar dark floorboards, the portraits of his grandfathers and great-grandfathers lining the walls, the door to the library standing slightly ajar and the great twisting staircase that lead to the rooms above. The Potters' summer house was grand and could have seemed empty - being for only two months every year - but his mother always managed to make it feel warm and welcoming whenever James came home, with the smell of Elfie cooking, the radio humming softly from the kitchen and the pictures of the family and James's friends she hung everywhere.

He hung his cloak on the rack next to the door and opened his owl's cage. Immediately, Merlin took off and soared up to the great chandelier that hung in the center of the entrance hall. There, he settled on the ornamental golden leaves and flowers and closed his eyes, giving a quiet hoot of pleasure. He felt home, too.

But James knew from the experience the feeling would soon pass as his mother tired of doting on him. She was a busy witch, involved in numerous societies and her voluntary work at the Ministry. It wasn't that she didn't like to have him around, she had just gotten used to being on her own for most of the year, with James at school. It was a good thing he was off to Ireland next week, for the Quidditch course and some quality time with his best mate Sirius.

"James, darling, are you coming for dinner?" his mother called from the kitchen, making him jump.

Frowning at his reflection in the round mirror above the dresser, he called back, "Aren't we waiting for Dad to come home?"

There was brief pause and then she answered, in a somewhat strained voice, "He needs to work late tonight, I'm afraid," she said. "Elfie will warm his dinner back up when he gets home."

That was always the way it worked with his father, thought James. His life was consumed by his work – it was his greatest passion and sometimes he thought that his mother's constant stream of activities and visitors was just a way to distract herself from his absence.

"I'm coming," he said, pushing a hand through his hair to make it stick up a little. Lily Evans always said it looked ridiculous when he did that, but when was _she_ ever right? In her second-hand clothes and the ever-present boring ponytail, she wasn't exactly a fashionista.

James shook his head. Why was he thinking of Lily Evans, of all people? He should be glad to be rid of their bickering for a few months before he had to endure a Lily fully refreshed by a holiday of reading Whatever he had liked about her when they were children, she definitely only annoyed him now.

"I'm coming," he repeated, to clear his head. It was time to look ahead to _his_ summer now – about a nice dinner and his upcoming Quidditch trip. He would definitely _not_ think about Lily Evans anymore. And with a reassuring grin and a wink at himself in the mirror – he _was_ handsome, after all – James dashed off to the kitchen to get some food.

Lily Evans sat down on her bed and sighed. Was there anything more exhausting than dinner with her family these days? Between Petunia not looking at or speaking to Lily and Mrs. Evans trying to fill the awkward gaps in the conversation with questions about Lily's summer plans, Lily was already wishing she were back in her dormitory at Hogwarts, with Marlene McKinnon and Nora Blackburn, her best friends. A glance at her watch told Lily that just around this time, they were usually tucked into their beds chatting a little or reading books. It made her heart feel like someone was squeezing it.

But at least she had her room to herself, thought Lily, looking around at the familiar flower-painted walls and the window looking out into the garden. There were flowers blooming down there, roses and her namesakes by the pond, an owl hooting somewhere.

Wait a minute, thought Lily. An _owl_? And just then, a large brown specimen swooped through the open window with a quiet hoot and landed on her bed, right on top of her backpack.

"Hello, Bree!" Lily greeted the owl affectionately, stroking his head. Her own cat, Molly, was lying on the bed next to her, flicking her tail but otherwise ignoring the visitor, as she took the letter and opened it eagerly.

_Welcome home, nerd, _it read,

_I hope you survived the trip with Potter – sorry again for leaving you to stick it out, but Mum really wanted to take me to that new musical in London and you know we hardly ever spend time together since her and Dad split. It's funny though how obsessed Muggles are with magic , don't you think? All the witches in the musical looked completely crazy in those sparkly costumes, but the singing was nice! Maybe I'll dress up as the green witch for next Hallowe'en and you could go as the blonde one – you'd look really cute in that princess dress of hers. _

_Anyway, we went to dinner and now I'm back home now. Marlene just wrote and told me that here parents said she could come to my house next week – isn't that fantastic? _

_Is Petunia still being crabby to you? If so, why don't you ask your folks if you can stay in my room for the holidays? It would be really fun, just the three of us (well, and Dad) and no Potters or Lupins or Blacks or Pettigrews to annoy us! And if they say no, you could still sneak out or Apparate over to my place (being seventeen and all). _

_See you tomorrow (hopefully?!) _

_Love,_

_Nora _

Lily smiled and put down the letter. Nora was always so bubbly and full of energy, she was sure they would have a wonderful summer – even if Petunia was being horrid to her. A few years ago, they had been the best of friends, but since Lily had left for Hogwarts, Petunia had spoken to her less and less. And now that she had met her boyfriend Vernon – who Lily was supposed to meet in a few days – that was the only thing she talked about. If her stories were true, Vernon seemed to be a perfect human being and future son-in-law, but Lily wasn't quite so sure she was going to have the same taste as her sister.

For some reason, Lily had to think of James Potter at this. A lot of the girls at Hogwarts had a big crush on James and constantly talked about how handsome and funny and athletic he was and the younger girls kept pairing their own first names with James last to find out who was best suited to be Mrs. Potter – yet Lily couldn't imagine a worse person to marry. It was true, they had been friends when they were little, but had grown apart so much over the years that Lily could hardly remembered their friendship anymore. Still, it was strange to think James might be lying in a bed only a few miles from her and yet she wouldn't speak to him all summer. Although maybe he _wouldn't_ be there after all … he had been bragging about some special Quidditch camp for the past few weeks and the last few summers had been spent mostly in vacation spots anyway.

What was the point, Lily thought, in having a summer house, if you never actually _stayed_ there? She would have given anything to be staying at a house so big she could pass a whole month and never have to run into Petunia …

She turned to the letter again. _"I hope you survived the trip with Potter." _This wrought another exasperated sigh from her.

Of course, it had been a completely awkward experience taking the portkey with James. For the past few years, there had always been a crowd of people taking the portkey back to Godric's Hollow – it's where she had first met Nora, more than five years ago when they were both eleven and heading to the Hogwarts Express for the first time. But this summer, they all seemed to be heading elsewhere.

Lily had checked the portkey list over and found that the only other person written down there apart from herself was James Potter, of all people.

So Lily and James had taken the portkey together and alone – since they were both seventeen, they didn't need a guardian. There had been catcalls and jokes from James's idiot friends Sirius and Peter, though Remus, who was also a prefect, had just smiled and wished Lily a nice holiday, as they grabbed hold of the old tire.

They had arrived in a little field a mile out of the village a few moments later, Lily landing in the dirt at James's feet.

"Ugh," she'd complained, refusing his hand and pushing herself up, "I really can't get the hang of portkeying, even after all these years." Then she had remembered that she was actually _talking_ to James Potter and had bitten her lip. Portkeys always made her feel woozy.

James had only grinned at her in that idiotic way of his. "Good thing it wasn't on the application for prefect duties."

Lily had glared at him and brushed the dirt from her skirt angrily. "I didn't _apply_ for being a prefect, and you know it."

"Sorry, your Highness," he had said with a little bow, taking off an imaginary hat. "Now excuse me, my chariot awaits."

Indeed, there had been a car standing just next to the field, a driver in a black cloak waiting at the door for James. The boy had taken off without another backwards glance and hopped in as Lily stood in the field, staring at them like she'd been Stunned.

"Aren't we taking the young lady?" the driver had asked James with a glance at her.

"No," James had said almost merrily. "She enjoys a good walk, Lily. She's very in tune with nature."

And they had driven off, leaving Lily behind in the field to walk back on her own. Just as the car turned, Lily could have sworn James had called something to her, but she couldn't make out the words and so she surmised it must have been another one of James's stupid jokes …

Lily shook her head to clear it. What was she _doing_? She didn't want to waste another moment being annoyed with James Potter or, Merlin forbid, wishing she'd see him! It was a good thing, she told herself firmly, that he lived out of town. A good thing. This summer wouldn't involve James Potter, thankfully, and she was free to be with her own friends and enjoy her freedom to the fullest without worrying about some prank or other he might play on her. Marlene and Nora would be just down the street and together they would enjoy the magical parts of Godric's Hollow to the fullest.

And refusing to give the matter anymore thought, Lily pulled out a piece of parchment from a drawer, dipped the tip of quill in her favourite violet-coloured ink and began to write.


	2. Chapter 2: Change of Plans

"James, dear, would you please turn the music down if you're not coming to dinner?" Mrs. Potter's voice sounded muffled through the thick door to James's bedroom, but that might have also had to do with the loud rock music pouring from his radio and reverberating around the room in crashing cymbals and fast guitar riffs. _Tear my heart out, put your Ice spell in, _the Crashing Ravens' lead singer was growling sexily into the microphone, while James ignored his mother and stared up at the ceiling.

It was papered with posters of his and Sirius's favourite Quidditch team, the ones that hadn't fit on James's walls anymore. And there he was, Rico Escarill, right in the middle of his team, grinning up at the camera in such a self-assured way it was bordering on arrogance. He was the best of the best, thought James. Why couldn't he have seen those bloody Bludgers?

The letter still lay on his desk, the torn envelope next to it. "What did I do to deserve this?" he said miserably to himself, waving his wand to turn the radio up a bit louder. Annoying his mother when she was in the middle of preparing for her witches' luncheon at least offered him a bit of relief.

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_We regret to inform you that due to personal reasons, the Quidditch camp scheduled to start on July 20th has to be canceled._

It wasn't fair.

„James, stop being unreasonable," said Mrs. Potter's voice through the door, knocking again and sounding exasperated. "It's not _my_ fault Rico fell off his broom!"

James closed his eyes. The Crashing Ravens' song had ended and there was something slower, softer on now. He raised his arm to change the station, find something even louder to annoy her, but then dropped it again. She _was_ right, of course, it wasn't her fault the Quidditch camp was off – but what was he supposed to do now? The camp had been his highlight for the summer and now it stretched ahead of him, empty and friendless and boring.

His best friends Sirius, Remus and Peter were all scattered across the country at their various parents' houses. Peter's family was too poor and big to travel in summer and they usually needed his help taking care of his two young twin brothers, Remus was spending some quality time with his father and Sirius – James sat up, a lopsided grin spreading across his face . Sirius would be _livid_ about the camp.

Out of all of his friends, James knew no one who hated his family as much as Sirius Black. They lived in a luxurious townhouse in the center of London, not far from the Potters' city place, and Sirius called it his own private Azkaban. He had been excited at the prospect of only having to stay there for a week before the Quidditch camp and then coming straight home to James's summer house. "So I'll only need to spend a few days with that bunch of pureblood-loving, Muggle-hating fanatics," he had said to the others' with a satisfied smile. "Enough to put up all my Gryffindor posters and banners on the walls with permanent sticking charms."

Sirius, at least, would be persuaded to spend the summer with James. And who knew, maybe Godric's Hollow wouldn't be so boring after all? After all, right outside the door, was a veritable park of a garden and on this very corridor there were half a dozen rooms for visitors, ready to be filled!

James flicked his wand, making the radio cut off mid-song, and leapt off his bed. "Mum! Can I ask you something?"

"Famous Seeker Rico Escarill Injured in Freak Accident"

Lily smoothed down the Daily Prophet in front of her and took a sip from her coffee mug. It was one of the few things she really liked about coming home – good coffee. For some reason, the Professors at school that the students should survive on only builders' tea and milk in the morning, because apparently, "Why does a wizard need caffeine?" But here, in Godric's Hollow, as the sun was just creeping through the window over the rose trellis, Lily could enjoy a whole pot all by herself.

The rest of the house was still asleep, even Molly draped over her lap and purring. It was Lily's time all to herself, the only time she could read the Prophet in peace without fascinated questions from her parents and Petunia pursing her lips and interrupting her train of thought with stories about Vernon-this and Vernon-that.

Leaning down, she began reading the article. Above were two pictures: One of a handsome, tousle-haired young man in Quidditch robes and surrounded by teammates and the other of a decidedly woebegone-looking gentleman with big white bandage around the middle part of his faces, being carried off a Quidditch-pitch in a stretcher.

"Escarill, 22, was hit by two Bludgers in yesterday's final Quidditch league match against the Sorebucker Swifties. Just about to catch the Snitch, the Swifties' Beaters Perdic Muskovitch and Reina Star, both 24, attempted the famously difficult Cross-curving Snitch-snatcher move. By beating two Bludgers close together so they make a cross about the Snitch, this move is designed to create a gust of wind so strong as to blow it away from a Seeker's searching fingers at the very last moment without causing injury. (This move was only once successfully executed in the Quidditch Cup Final of 1837, making Poland the legendary one-time winner of the Cup it still is today.)

Unfortunately, the move proved unsuccessful in yesterday's match. Instead of crossing the Bludgers, they crashed together, one of them spinning right into the young seeker's face and making him fall 50 feet from his groom. Medi-wizards were on-site immediately to treat Escarill and later moved him to St. Mungo's, where he is being treated for trauma and brain damage induced by the force of the lockout. His condition remains critical."

Lily lowered the paper. She wasn't much of a Quidditch fan herself, but from James Potter's gang she knew he was very famous and talented. In the past months, every single conversation she had overheard them having had "Rico says" or "Rico did" or "Did you see Rico catch that Snitch last week?" in it. They would all be pretty shocked to hear of their hero's fall, she thought. But why people _still_ continued to play that awful sport, she couldn't understand!

There was a tap on the kitchen door and Lily looked up to see Nora's wildly curly head and wide smile in the window. She waved and pointed at the doorknob.

Lily gently set Molly on the chair next to her and opened to door. Nora immediately enveloped her friend in a tight hug, her curls tickling Lily's cheeks. Like always, Nora smelled a little like the leaves and moss of a forest, and her mud-caked boots told Lily that was exactly where Nora had come from.

"It's good to see a familiar face," she sighed in a low voice, shutting the kitchen door so her family wouldn't be woken by the noise. "But you're up early. Have you been exploring?"  
Nora's eyes glinted as she unwound the thin scarf from around her neck and dropped into the chair next to Lily's cat. "I have," she said excitedly. "I took my Advanced Herbology book and you wouldn't _believe _all the magical plants that grow around here. I'm thinking drying some of them and starting a scrapbook!"

At Hogwarts, Lily and Nora were equally excited about their Advanced Herbology class, sometimes spending their spare time in the greenhouses to help Professor Grassbeam tend to the plants. Lily, however, was also fascinated by Potions, whereas Nora hated the class. In fact, she had been working on an essay for Professor Slughorn just before the owl had delivered her Daily Prophet.

"Working already?" asked Nora in surprise, as she saw Lily's notes strewn over the kitchen table, a quill lying on top of her textbook. "It's just first day into the holidays!"

Lily glanced at the closed kitchen door, then bit her lip. "Tuney's getting worse. She won't even talk to me anymore now."

Nora frowned. "I thought you said Christmas had been better," she said. "So what brought on the change?"

"It's her new boyfriend, Vernon, I think," replied Lily. "He's very ambitious and impressive, apparently, full of plans for his future with her. And with her computer courses and college classes, I think she's so caught up in acting all normal – or that's what she calls it - she's really started to despise anything that has to do with magic. Including me." She fumbled with her long, red plait, twisting the end around her finger. "I just always kind of hoped she would find a way to accept me for what I am one day and we could be friends again, but I don't think there's any hope for that now."

Dinner the previous night had been a thoroughly frosty affair again. Lily loved her parents and missed them all year, writing to her mother at least once a week about the goings-on a t school, but with Petunia there, the atmosphere was somewhat subdued. When they had been younger, Lily had always been the bubbly, wild one, Petunia tagging along a few steps behind, always careful and a little cynical. But Lily had loved that about her, just as Petunia had always loved her lively, free-spirited younger sister.

The arrival of Lily's Hogwarts letter more than five years ago had been the end of that carefree relationship. Though she had never said it, Petunia had been incredibly envious of Lily, suddenly treating her with an icy, sometimes sneering haughtiness, which had driven a thick wedge between the sisters. It had been left to grow and deep over the years, with Lily always hoping that one holiday she would return home to the family she had once had. Her parents supported Lily's dreams – now magical and somewhat different from the eleven-year-old who had wanted to be a painter – but the absence of any loving relationship with her sister made Lily feel unbalanced in a way she never did at Hogwarts, like a weight was tied to one of her feet.

Nora looked thoughtfully at Lily for a long moment. She didn't particularly like Petunia, nor could she understand why Lily continually tried to become friendly with her even after a million rebuttals, but she knew Lily cared, so she couldn't rightly tell her any of this. Finally, she said, "Let's see what the summer brings. Who knows, maybe she'll come around. I would. I mean, you're a nice enough person," she added with a wink. Lily stuck her tongue out at her.

Relieved to see her friend looking a little happier, Nora jumped to her feet. "Marlene's arriving on the train in two hours and I'm _starving_, so you need to come with me and have some breakfast."  
Lily smiled fondly at the other witch. Nora was always so full of positive energy, it was hard to feel gloomy around her. Plus, the prospect of seeing her other best friend in only a few hours made Lily quickly forget about her troubles with Petunia.

In a few minutes they had cleared away all of Lily's study utensils, left a note to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, given Molly a pat on the head and stepped out into the warm July sunshine.

"Oi, Prongs, get some new glasses, will you? We're over here!" yelled Sirius Black, waving from the train window.

James jogged along the platform, broomstick still in hand. He had left too late, of course, and Sirius could never remember that he ought to get off at the _other_ end of the train. The tousle-haired , handsome young wizard caught James in a quick hug as he leapt from the compartment, closely followed by James's other two best friends Remus and Peter.

Remus looked a little pale as always at this time of the month – the moon had only just started to wane, while Peter seemed to have gotten a bit chubbier in just a few days at home.

"It's good to see you," he said, grinning around at them. "Elfie's already cooked us _the_ biggest dinner imaginable, according to Mum. And she said it won't be a problem to have an extra room for you at the end of the month, Wolfie. She loves redecorating."

"_James_," hissed Remus, his eyes darting nervously up and down the platform as Sirius roared with laughter.

"Good one, Prongs," said Sirius in a conspiratory tone. "We wouldn't want your mother thinking the furry little problem is getting out of hand now, do we?" Hardly anyone at Hogwarts new of his affliction and James's mother had only learned the truth a year before. To help Remus enjoy his time at school nonetheless, the three others had learned how to transform into animals and keep him company. Over the years, it had grown to be one of their favourite pastimes.

"You mean she still doesn't know about you being an Animagus?" asked Peter, his eyes widening. He alone still had slightly high-pitched voice, while all the other boys had developed their deeper tones in third year, though maybe it was just the rat in him coming out a little …

"Don't be ridiculous," said James, not unkindly. "She knows so many people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she would have to turn me in so they can lock me up in Azkaban!"

This time, they all laughed, though of course, it wasn't entirely a laughing matter. It was one thing to tell his mother about Lupin being a werewolf – several of the teachers also knew this – but them being Animagi was their own little secret, only shared between the Marauders.

Suddenly, there was a little gasp behind them, followed by: "Remus! What are you doing here?"

It was Lily Evans, dressed in torn jeans and huge yellow sweater, her hair in a plait down her back. She looked slightly out of breath as she strode towards them, as though she had just been running, as did the girl right behind her, her best friend Nora Blackthorn. A huge smile was spread across her face at the sight of her fellow Gryffindor prefect, the kind of smile she had never given James before.

It slipped now, as her eyes fell upon the other three boys standing with Remus. She slowed and stopped a few feet away from them, evidently regretting her outburst.

"Lily! Nora," said Remus with a smile and a nod to each of them, stepping forward and away from his friends. He knew she didn't like them much - especially James who tended to goad her and liked to smoke in the common room. "How are you?"

"Fine," she replied, a little reservedly, her eyes flicking to the other Marauders again, who were gazing at her and Nora. Her chin came up and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Evidently she was torn between being her usual friendly, cheerful self around Remus and Nora, and being stand-offish towards the rest of the Marauders. "What are you doing in Godric's Hollow?"

"Visiting Pr- James," said Remus. "For the summer."

"Oh," said Lily, blushing a little as her eyes flicked to James for a second. "Wow. Well, that's - nice. I thought you were staying with your father?"

"Well, I –"

"Hello, Evans," interrupted Sirius pointedly from behind Remus's back. "How's it going?"

"Oh, um, hello Sirius," said Lily and bit her lip. She knew it was impolite not to address the other three, but after the way James had left her standing in that field ... she _wouldn't_ do it! This wasn't Hogwarts now where they all had classes together and she had to act the model prefect – this was her summer holiday. It wasn't her job to be friendly to people who constantly annoyed her during the summer holiday!

So she ignored Sirius's question and said nothing more, though it was a shame. If it had only been Remus there, she could have happily chatted with him all afternoon, but the rest of his gang she just couldn't stand. Especially that Sirius Black, now eyeing up Nora appreciatively, who crossed her arms tightly across her chest and scowled.

"Stop gawking, Black," she snapped at him.

"You know, with both our names having 'Black' in it, you'd think we were practically a match made in heaven," said Sirius musingly, leaning against a bench, clearly unperturbed by her manner. "You thought so not such a long time ago, remember?"

Nora, unlike Lily, hardly ever blushed and was admirably able to keep her cool even with someone as irritating as Sirius Black. She ignored him and turned to her friend. "Lily, are you done here? We need to find Marlene."

"Already here!" called a breathless voice from behind them before Lily could answer. Marlene, who had apparently got in at the front, was jogging towards them, looking neat as always, in a plain grey dress and her brown hair in a ponytail.

Lily, relieved at the interruption from their uncomfortable conversation, hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're here! How was London?"

"Oh, it was lovely! Hi!" beamed the other witch, kissing Nora on the cheek and glancing at the boys slightly confusedly. "Uh, and hello, you three - Mum and I just had lunch at a really nice Indian place a while ago, before she had to go to work. They have these crazy two-headed birds but Mum said they looked like parrots to her, can you believe that? I'll have to show the place to you when we go down to London -"

"Taking a trip, Evans?" interrupted James with a devilish grin. "Can we come?"

Lily felt her blood boil as she whirled to face him. "Will you be lending us your car then, by any chance? Or do you always make people walk to the places they need to go?"

"Oh, this is about _Bernie_!" said James, a look of mock realisation passing over his face. "I simply can't understand why Mother hired him, he has such bad manners. Practically whisked me off before I could get you on board."

"Oh, shut up, Potter," hissed Lily. "You're not getting funnier by making your sentences longer."

Peter and Remus actually chortled at that along with Nora and Marlene, but James merely pretended to be hurt. "The sting of your poisonous tongue has pierced by heart once again, Lady Evans," he said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "I am slain." And he buckled to his knees on the platform, making Sirius bark with laughter.  
"You're mental, Prongs!" he said, yanking his friend back to his feet. "Let's get the ladies and head back to your house –"

"What?" said Marlene in surprise. "We're actually _meeting_ the boys here?"

"No, we're not," said Lily quickly, still red in the face. "We just – we just ran into each other."

"Yes, Lily and I got stuck at the bakery, so we literally did," added Nora. "And then Lily wanted to say hello to Remus. Why we should be going anywhere with _you," _she said with an icy glare at Sirius, "escapes me entirely."

As Marlene's expression changed from confusion to amusement, a disgustingly confident grin started stretching over Sirius's face. "Well, well, I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting summer," he said in a drawling voice. "Don't you, Prongs? With Evans, Blackthorn and McKinnon around – we might all end up the best of friends. Or _more_," he said very pointedly, clapping James on the back, who, to Lily's surprise, half-blushed. The other three Marauders grinned.

Lily looked first at Nora, then at Marlene. Did he fancy one of them? But before she could get to the bottom of her thought, James had already composed his face back into his usual arrogant confidence and grabbed one of Sirius's duffel bags. "Let's get going. Before something interesting happens _right_ _now_, Padfoot."

And leaving the girls to giggle about their absolutely ridiculous nicknames once again, the four boys traipsed away down the platform, James leading.


	3. Chapter 3: A Summer Project

**A.N.: **Sorry for posting late, guys. I changed a few things at the end of the last chapter – I felt a bit of James-and-Lily-fighting-action was missing – but this one is a quick chapter all about the Marauders. I hope you like it!

„So, _did_ you actually put Gryffindor pictures all over your room then?" asked James, flopping down on his large, unmade bed next to Sirius. Mrs. Potter had not returned yet, so the four Marauders were waiting for dinner up in James's room with a tray of Elfie's best sandwiches and Crashing Ravens' latest record playing.

The other wizards grinned and grabbed a sandwich from the tray between them. "'Course I did," he said between bites, "and when I left, Mother was screaming her head off about it, ordering the house elves to clean it up before Father got home to see it. It was really funny, actually – the way she was yelling about throwing me out of the house, dishonouring the family. And just as I was closing the door, she was threatening to cut off the house-elves heads if they didn't manage the rom manage on time." His voice was dispassionate, as if his mother insulting him had little or no impact on Sirius at all, though Remus glanced at him worriedly. Sirius had a tendency of down-playing anything that might hurt him and he had wondered more than once how hard it must be to spend the holidays in a place where he was about as welcome as a fox in a chicken coop.

Peter shuddered, thinking of Sirius's description of the elf-heads on the wall of his house's entrance hall as Remus said, "But that's horrible! House-elves can't get off permanent sticking charms, don't you know that?"

Sirius shrugged carelessly, grabbing another sandwich – cheese and bacon, his favourite. "All she does is threaten them, Moony. She hardly ever punishes them when they get something wrong. And even so, it wouldn't be such a loss - Kreacher is just as much of a bigot as the rest of them."

"But the heads –," began Remus, but Peter cut him off with a shrill, "Stop it!"

"What, Peter? Not squeamish, are you?" teased James, reaching out to ruffle Peter's hair.

"Stop it, Prongs!" Peter pushed him away and laughed. "I am on _holiday_," he added with mock dignity, straightening his hair. "And on holidays, you have fun instead of talking about chopped-off elf-heads."

"Exactly," said James with a satisfied grin, nodding towards the radio where the Ravens' lead singer was bellowing out the chorus: _Call us crazy with our drinking and gambling, but that's the only kind of crazy I want! _"And since Rico Escarill doesn't want us at his Quidditch camp –"

"-he's in St. Mungo's, Prongs!" guffawed Sirius.

"- and he couldn't _heal_ fast enough," James went on regardless, glancing up at the ceiling where the dark-haired Quidditch player was chasing after the Snitch, his face set in a determined from, "we're going to have to find something useful to occupy our time."  
"Something useful?" repeated Remus, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a music magazine in his lap. His tone was amused. "That sounds like something Professor McGonagall would say in Transfiguration."

"Well, I don't mean it like that!" said James, now getting to his feet at starting to pace. "I mean we need a sort of – a sort of project or something."

"We can always play Quidditch," suggested Peter excitedly, who loved the game. "You can teach me how to throw the Quaffle properly, then maybe I can try out for the team next year."

"And get me kicked off?" said Sirius in mock exasperation. "Surely not! But we could get the girls to play against us – how about that, Prongs?"

James raised his eyebrows at him. "What _is_ it with you, Padfoot? So desperate to snog Nora again, are you? I thought you'd be a bit less obvious."

Sirius did not look ashamed, even as Peter goggled at him. "What, you _did_?" he half-squeaked. "I thought she hates you!"

"Until she's had some firewhisky," replied Sirius smoothly and when Peter still looked confused, he added, "At the end-of-year party, when you were off puking your guts out in the bathroom with Remus. Remember that by any chance?"

Peter blushed and muttered something unintelligible, but Sirius plowed on regardless less, "But let's not get off the subject here, Prongs. How _was_ that little trip you took with Lily Evans the other day?"

James didn't notice Remus smiling slyly down into the magazine as a look of confusion passed over his face. "My trip with Evans?" he repeated. "What about it? I dumped her as soon as I could and got away, that's it." For some reason, he didn't feel like talking about Lily Evans at all. He had never felt irritation with someone as acutely as with that girl. Just the thought of her self-righteousness and the way she swished her red hair when she stormed off to be angry with him or someone else, preferably to report him to their Head of House, made his stomach clench with annoyance.

"I just thought," said Sirius slowly, savouring every word, "seeing that she's here this summer – and Marlene and Nora are around – we would all be spending a lot of time together. And who knows, maybe Lily likes firewhisky, too - " He trailed off.

"What, looking for a threesome, Black?" said James, a crooked grin spreading over his face. "You dog." He paused. "But if you're looking to make Lily Evans like firewhisky this summer, that's something you're going to have to do without me. Though I'm not sure she would be well-advised to go out with _you_." Though his words could have been hurtful, Sirius only grinned, for that was their normal custom of speaking each other, just like calling each other "elk" and "critter" on occasion.

But before he could say anything, Peter had sat up at the foot the bed with a grin. "Are you actually protecting her? Wow, Prongs, that's almost sort of _nice_ of you."

James raised his eyebrows at him, his crooked grin widening. "It's been known to happen."  
Sirius clapped his hands together gleefully at that. "And it can only mean one thing. He really still does, Peter!"

"Do what?" asked James, now confused himself.

"_Like_ Evans!" cried Sirius. He and Peter were now both grinning at each other, while Remus remained outwardly immersed in his magazine.

"What?" said James. Then something seemed to click into place in his head. "Oh, no, I don't. That was – that was fifth year. Come on, guys. That's _very_ over."

When the three others still only looked on the brink of launching into a fit of laughter, James sighed in annoyance. First his mother and now his friends? He hated to explain himself, especially his feelings, so he settled on insulting Lily: "That was before she turned into an annoyingly boring rule-abider."

"Lily's not boring, James," said Remus, finally speaking up. "She may not be as crazy as you are, but she's nice and really funny. You should listen to her more."  
"Well, I _don't_ like her," said James and there was a finality ringing in his voice that told the others the subject was closing. "I already have enough of seeing her at Slughorn's parties and in the common room when she snaps at me _without_ finding out if she likes firewhisky or not." He directed this directly at Sirius, who didn't look away from his friend's angry glare.

"We really need project," James went on. "Something cool to do this summer except playing two-on-two Quidditch, which _won't_ involve the girls. We're the Marauders, aren't we?"

"Of course," said Peter, with the same admiring expression he always wore when James started talking about plans. "What's your idea?"

"Let's brainstorm," said Sirius, getting to his feet too, now that he has polished off the last sandwich. He rummaged in his pockets and withdrew a pencil and some paper. "I'll take notes." He started scribbling down his first suggestion: "Get drunk at the _Dragon_ every night of the holidays?"

"Let's take that as an optional, shall we?" said James, matching his mock industrious tone. "How about we work on the map some more?"  
Sirius flexed his fingers and looked thoughtful. Then he said, "Wormtail, you take notes!" and tossed the piece of paper to Peter. "Planning projects and writing at the same time is simply too exhausting for me."

Peter rolled his eyes and wrote down James's suggestion. "Can't we do something new?" he asked. "The map is only really fun when we're at Hogwarts and get to try out new passages straight away."

"That's true," Sirius agreed. "But we _could_ prank your Mother's house-elf."

"Elfie?" asked Remus, frowning. "But she's nice to us!"

"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Peter, taking note of what Sirius had said. We have 'Drinking at the Dragon', 'Quidditch', 'Pranks on the house-elf' –"

"How about this?" said Remus with a knowing smile, holding up the magazine.

"What, write to the _Lightning Bolt _and tell them to stop printing horrid interviews with Celestina Warbeck?" asked James. "Have you got that, Pete? I'm all for it-"

"No, wait, Peter," said Remus gently, stopping his eagerly writing friend. "I mean something different." He pointed to the magazine in his lap. "They're having a band contest. The finals are in London and the first prize is to play as supporting act for Crashing Ravens in September."

The other three all spoke at once. "Crashing Ravens?" gasped James. "That's it!" yelled Sirius, and "But we're not a band!" said Peter.

A wide grin spread over James's face and he gave Remus a little bow. "Moony, I think you've set us our summer project." He turned to the other two. "We're doing it!" Amidst the whoops and Peter's continued shouts of "But only Remus plays an instrument!" and "Can any of you _sing_?" they almost overheard Mrs. Potter knocking on their door and calling, "Boys! Are you coming down to dinner?"

"Quick!" said James, his head whipping around. "Hide the tray!"

()

"Lily! Thank goodness!" said Mrs. Evans breathlessly, ushering her daughter over the threshold. "Where have you been? Petunia only told me this morning – Vernon's coming to dinner."

She closed the door hastily behind Lily, looking flustered. Her friendly, round face was red-cheeked and she was wearing an elegant turquoise evening dress that set off her hair prettily. Its colour was somewhere half-way between her daughters': a soft shade of brown set off by strands of copper.

Lily, however, had blanched at the mention of Petunia's boyfriend, her good mood evaporating instantly. "What? He's coming to dinner?"

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evans impatiently, leading Lily past the kitchen, where she glimpsed a green salad on the counter and pots steaming on the stove. It seemed as though her mother had been cooking all afternoon in expectation of Vernon, which made her feel bad immediately. Instead of helping her mother, she had been out with Nora and Marlene all day, in the shops and at Marlene's house, forgetting about the time.

"Oh, Mum, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "You've been working so hard and I've been away all day. I should have been -"  
"Darling," Mrs. Evans interrupted gently. "You always work so hard at school, being a prefect and all – I think you deserve to have a bit more fun and free time when you're at home. Your father and I are glad you have such nice friends to spend time with, really, and it's your first day back."

They had reached the stairs. "Now, Vernon's arriving in ten minutes and as much as I love your old jeans and that sweater -," Mrs. Evans stroked Lily's shoulder, loosening a few leaves that must have caught there when they had been sitting in Marlene's garden, "-I've laid out a dress upstairs for you to wear and maybe you could clean your hair." She paused. "Vernon's a little conservative."

Lily sighed. "Do I really have to be there?" she asked. "I mean, maybe it's best if I stay upstairs or go to Marlene's for the night. You know Petunia doesn't want me to meet him anyway."

Mrs. Evans looked hurt. "You're part of this family, too, Lily," she said very firmly. "And you will be at this dinner party. I know things have been … difficult between you and Petunia for a long time, but this may be the last summer you two spend under the same roof –" She bit her lip. "Just try, Lily."

"I _am_ trying!" said Lily with force, feeling sudden tears sting her eyes. "But Tuney – Petunia – she just won't talk to me!"

Her voice seemed to have carried into the garden, because her father appeared in the open doorway a moment later, looking concerned. "Everything all right in here?" His eyes passed from his stricken-looking daughter to his wife and back again. "Flower, Mary –"

Lily loved her father's kindness and concern and the look on her parents' face felt like a punch in the stomach. She hated to make them sad like this. So with an effort, Lily made her face relax into a smile. "It's all right, Dad," she said. "Mum was just trying to convince me wear that awful grey dress this evening and I told her I would rather Transfigure myself into a circus tent and run down the street before even _considering_ that. Even if it would mean breaking the International Statute of Secrecy.

Immediately, her father's face relaxed into a laugh. "I'd like to see that!" he said, and seemingly convinced that this really had only been an argument about dresses and circus tents – and knowing Lily's temper, which was always quick to flare – he turned and headed towards the garden again. "And you may want to brush your hair before dinner!" he called over his shoulder as he went.

Lily snorted, turning to climb the stairs and determinedly not looking at her mother. "Nobody likes the natural look anymore," she pretended to grumble as she went. "I tell you, if I were living in the woods, everyone would –"

"Lily –," began Mrs. Evans, at the bottom of the stairs, sounding worried. She had, of course, noticed that Lily was only trying to cover up her feelings and was trying to escape her. But Lily didn't intend to finish their conversation – if she was to be in any fit state to receive her sister's glorious boyfriend for the first time, it was definitely not advisable to stand around discussing their own botched relationship.

"Don't worry, Mum," she called downstairs. "I'll be on my best behaviour." And even though she wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and flee from the house and the inevitable disaster this dinner would be, she knew she couldn't do it, not after the hope she had heard in her mother's voice. Seven minutes to compose herself had to be enough.

()

"Sirius!" Mrs. Potter spread her arms wide as the four Marauders came into the dining room. "And Remus and Peter!" She looked at each of their faces as if they were the lost boys come home at last. "You are all going the same way as James – up, up and ever higher!"

James smiled, hovering in the dining room door as Mrs. Potter hugged his three friends. She seemed genuinely excited to have them here and not for the first time did he feel glad that she only knew of half the detentions the Marauders had gotten in and mercifully even fewer of the pranks they had pulled. If had known about the one where Sirius had turned Professor Flitwick's hair blue, for instance …

But Mrs. Potter loved the four Marauders and when James thought about it, they really were like the lost boys in the Peter Pan story. Sirius with his 'toujours pure'-crazy family, Remus living with his quiet, lonely father, Peter and his six siblings, whose parents didn't have any affectionate moments to spare …

Then James's eyes fell on his father. He was sitting silently at the end of the dinner table, his dark eyes following the spectacle of Mrs. Potter welcoming James's friends and seating them around the table, Sirius making jokes and Remus as quietly polite as always.

John Potter was a tall, powerfully built man who always looked a little disdainful, as if what he saw displeased him. He could be moody and withdrawn at times, spending whole holidays locked in his home office and only emerging for breakfast and dinner.

James had always admired him for his power and his intelligence, but there was also a certain degree of coldness about him that made him feel uneasy.

"James," said Mr. Potter, getting to his feet. "Welcome home, son."

"Thanks, Dad," said James a little stiffly, walking forward and dropping into a seat next to Sirius as Elfie came in with the soup. "How's work?"

Mr. Potter raised an eyebrow. "Very busy, as you might have gathered from the papers."

"There is a case against anti-Muggle campaigning going on at the moment, isn't there?" piped up Remus, who was very interested in politics and probably the only non-Ravenclaw student to read the Daily Prophet cover to cover every morning. "Has it gone to trial yet?"  
"It was quite a bit more than anti-Muggle campaigning," said Mr. Potter darkly. "There was torture and the destruction of several Muggle houses in the Greater London area. The Aurors haven't caught who's responsible yet, but – "  
"I hope they kill whoever hurt those people," interrupted Sirius rather savagely, grabbing a roll from the bread basket. "It's disgusting, like torturing animals - Muggles can't defend themselves against wizards, either." He stared darkly at his plate. "It sounds like the sort of thing my family would get themselves involved in."

"Sirius!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter in shock. "Don't say such a thing!"

Before Sirius could reply, Remus jumped in again. "But do you have any clues who it might be, Mr. Potter? Any leads?"

Mr. Potter actually smiled at this indulgently, evidently liking Remus's interest. "I can't tell you any of the details, but the curious thing about these cases is that the attackers seem to be very … young."

"_Young_?" repeated James, frowning. "You mean, school age?"  
Mr. Potter nodded gravely, but before he could answer, Mrs. Potter spoke up: "Now, let's not have talk of such dark things over dinner, John. The boys have only just arrived back from Hogwarts and with their OWLs finished, too." She smiled around at them all. "I spoke to Professor Greybeard at the committee last week and he told me your results will be arriving in two weeks."

"Well, we should get some living done until then," said James, swapping a grin with Sirius. "Moony's probably the only one who got a few OWLs out of the four of us."

"Hey!" protested Peter. "_I_ studied."

"Fine, you'll probably get one in Charms, Pete," allowed Sirius.

Peter still looked annoyed and Remus patted his arm kindly. "I'm sure you did all right, Peter. I mean, we practiced together so much, you must have passed that exam with flying colours."  
"I don't care how well I passed it, as long as it's good enough to get me a career as an Auror," replied Peter in a longing sort of voice. He looked up at the portrait hanging above the mantelpiece: Alexis Potter, James's grandfather, who had been a famous Auror in his days. Since Peter had met him in the Easter holidays of their fourth year, he had worshipped him almost as much as James himself, including the profession he held.

"You want to be an Auror, you say?" asked Mr. Potter, looking up from his soup. "That's a lot of hard work, son, mind you."

Peter bit his lip. "I know, sir, but I will try my very best. It would be good to do something to … support my family a little. They don't have much money."

Mrs. Potter smiled at him. "That sounds nice, Peter," she said. "But I hope you're also doing it for yourself. It's a very tough profession."

"Exactly," said Sirius, in a mock-serious voice, "have you ever _really_ imagined what you look like without a nose? _Witch Weekly_ did a quiz on that a few weeks ago."

James snorted into his soup. "You _didn't_," he muttered.

"I did." Sirius pulled something from his pocket and unfolded it. The Marauders and Mr. and Mrs. Potter leaned forward to peer down at what looked like a newspaper article with a pink frame in the middle. Where it said "Stick your own photo _here_", Sirius had glued a photograph of himself, white spot in the middle of his face.

The Marauders laughed.

"We should do that with a picture of Snivellus and send it to him for his birthday!" suggested James (His mother looked at him reproachfully).

"Well, I think it's time for the second course," she said and immediately Elfie reappeared, carrying a huge roast in her tiny arms. It obscured her face so only her pointy ears stuck up from behind the meat.

Sirius nudged James. "I think we're going to have a good summer," he muttered.

James grinned back at him. "I think so, too."


	4. Chapter 4: Family Dinner

The dress was too tight and Lily wriggled uncomfortably as she lifted her arms to dry her hair by magic. A quick shower was much nicer than using Tergio but she hated the way the heat spell was making her hair frizz up. Marlene had a way of doing it that made her hair lie beautifully sleek and shiny afterwards, but Lily had never quite managed that trick yet. She wished more than anything that Marlene and Nora could be here now, to calm her down and to tell her Vernon wouldn't be as bad as she feared he would.

There were pictures of the three of them pinned around the mirror. It showed them waving at the camera in Honeydukes, clutching armfuls of candy, having a snowball fight and ice-skating on the lake, celebrating after they had finished their last OWL exam.

Lily smiled briefly, touching her fingertips to the moving picture of the three friends hugging so tightly only their different hair colours made them distinguishable.

The she turned back to her reflection in the mirror. Contrary to what she had told her father, she _was _wearing a horridly conservative grey dress that leeched the colour from her cheeks and made her hair, usually vibrantly red, look a sickly orange. The last time she had worn it had been to Petunia's graduation ceremony at school three years ago and apparently she had been somewhat flatter in the chest back then. Though it showed almost no cleavage, the lack of material in front had made the dress ride up to mid-thigh and it was hugging her hips in a decidedly non-conservative manner.

She moved her arms a little, experimentally, and could almost feel the fabric groan. "What am I going to do now, Molly?" she asked her cat in a dismayed voice. "If I sit down in this dress, it's going to rip." Molly, who was lying on her bed, only looked at Lily with her steady yellow eyes, blinked once and put her head back down again. _Well, you're a witch, aren't you? _Lily imagined her saying with an exasperated sigh. _Just transfigure the thing! _

Lily watched herself bite her lip in the mirror. Then she said, "You're right, Moll'. I _am_ a witch." Her expression turned into a determined scowl. Then she grabbed her wand from her nightstand and began to twirl it just as she heard the car pull into the driveway outside, filling her room with sparks.

()

After dinner, James approached his father in the sitting room, just as he was opening the paper again. He cleared his throat. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

Mr. Potter lowered his paper, regarding his son through narrowed eyes. "Please don't tell me I'm expecting another letter from Professor Dumbledore, James. That last one was highly embarrassing and I was rather hoping you were slowly starting to get your act together –"

"No, it's not a letter," James cut him off. He felt resentment bubble up in his stomach as he looked at his father, sitting mightily in the wide armchair and looking at his son as though he was a disappointment. "It's about the basement, actually."

"The _basement_?" echoed Mr. Potter in surprise, a rare smile touching the corners of his mouth. "My, my, James, this sounds like it's going to be interesting."

"It is, actually," said Sirius, appearing from kitchen and clutching a piece of chocolate cake in his hand. He dropped into the sofa directly opposite Mr. Potter, draping his free arm lazily over the back. "James has decided to start a band." And when he saw John Potter's looked of utter astonishment, he elaborated, "A _rock_ band. We're going to enter a contest, but we don't have a name for it yet and we unfortunately also don't have anywhere to practice –"

"-which pertains to why I need the basement," James interrupted his best friend smoothly, sitting down next to Sirius and giving him a look that said, _Too much detail, Padfoot_.

"This sounds like the kind of question you should better ask your mother, James," said Mr. Potter.

"I did," replied James, "and she told us we could. But I could use a little sponsorship for the instruments. You know, to keep us doing _productive_ things this summer," he added as an afterthought, thinking of Mr. Potter's comment about him getting his act together.

Mr. Potter raised his eyebrows again and as he did so, James noticed there was grey in them and he _did_ actually look very tired, like he was not only saying that he was working late, but actually doing it. "How much do you need?"

Sirius and James swapped a surprised glance. They had been expecting him to say no, or to at least have conditions, but this reaction had not been part of their plans. When they told him the sum, he simply promised to fetch the money from Gringotts at his earliest convenience and then sent them away so he could finish his paper.

As they walked up the wide staircase, James glanced over his shoulder and saw Mr. Potter disappearing behind his paper again. Mrs. Potter was nowhere to be seen.

"Prongs," said Sirius very quietly, as they passed the portraits of James's ancestors, each with their own little gold plaque detailing their life achievements and names. There was Hollista Potter ("_famous_ _inventor of the Disillusionment Charm"), _Perovio Potter (_"wordsmith and dueling champion")_ and - back from the days before the Peverells became the Potters – Augustinius Peverell (_"walked 3,000 miles through the desert without drinking a drop of water and survived by chewing a mysterious root called _Aegràya"), who was James's favourite. "Are your parents having … problems, Prongs?"

James stopped in his tracks and looked at Sirius in amusement. "_Problems_?" he repeated with a smirk. "Why, Padfoot, what a strangely vague word for you to use. If you had said "crisis", "possible divorce", "hardly any words spoken", I could have possibly followed, but like this –"

"You know what I mean," said the other wizard. "Like, marital problems."

James's grin widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Did you open a counselling service since I last saw you? Or is the alcohol wearing off again? I see the chocolate isn't." He added, gesturing to the half-eaten slice of cake in Sirius's hand.

"Stop it," said the Sirius rather severely. He seemed to be struggling for words but continued, "You shouldn't – you should be glad you have a family at all. Your parents, they're all right, you know. It would – it would be a shame if things changed," he added very quickly. "Do you think they're splitting up?"

The grin had left James's face. Even for his best friend, it seemed, this was way beyond forbidden territory. "I don't know anything," he said in a tight voice. "I just know what my father's like."

They were silent for a moment, Sirius not wanting to push the subject any further.

Then James – never angry for long - shoved Sirius's shoulder playfully. "Come on, let's get the others. I need to get out of here before it's past Moony's and Wormtail's bedtime." With that, he passed his best friend, jogging up the last couple of steps.

Sirius watched him go, eyebrows drawn together. He knew James didn't like to talk about his feelings, especially where his father was concerned, but the way he had spoken just now … He hadn't known things had become so strangely stiff between James's parents, worry and tiredness etched into their every movement. It made him wonder how long this had been going on and how long James had not been telling him about it. After all, it couldn't be completely new, or James wouldn't have sounded so resigned. And more than that, it made feel guilty about things _he_ was holding back.

"Hello, ladies!" he heard James call from up ahead in a sultry tone. "Padfoot's getting moody without his daily drink. Are you joining us?"

Sirius smirked as he heard Peter's protest ("-why you _insist _on inventing stupid nicknames all the time!" –"Not even funny!" - "It's my trademark, Wormy, what do you expect?") and continued up the steps. Why was he even worrying about this? If James still had it in him to call the Marauders out for a drink, he needn't be worried. And it wasn't like him, Sirius Black, to be in dark moods and think such deep thoughts – the alcohol really must be wearing off.

And with a last shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he pushed open the door. "Why, ladies, looking absolutely _terrific_ this evening. May I escort you?"

()

Lily made her way slowly down the steps, smoothing her hands down and over her dress. There was the sound of murmured voices from the terrace and fading sunlight pouring into the empty sitting room. Apparently, Vernon had just arrived and was being made a drink by Mr. Evans, judging from the clinking of glasses and Petunia's pearling laughter.

She was standing with her back to Lily, in a knee-length dress a powdery shade of blue. Her hair looked elaborately curled, held back at her neck with glimmering pins, the picture of perfection.

It made Lily feel self-conscious. She paused in the sitting room, biting her lip and wondering if she was really doing the right thing. This was Petunia's world, her role as the perfectly put-together girlfriend. She had even made her parents part of the picture, but Lily wondered if she herself could really ever fit. Could she pull this off, even just for a night? Maybe she should just turn around and walk out the front door while she still could …

"_Lily_!"

Too late. Mrs. Evans had spotted her and was beckoning her younger daughter enthusiastically. Petunia turned just as Lily stepped into the sunlight and there was a tinkle of breaking glass as she dropping her drink, spraying the man next to her with sparkling cider. "Lily!" she exclaimed, though in a completely different voice. It sounded like someone had forced her to drink vinegar and made her opinion on Lily's choice of evening wear clear. Indeed, it was a far cry from what the grey dress had looked like - long-sleeved and green, streaked with stripes of bright yellows and blues and purples that made it look like a shimmering feather. It brought out her eyes and fell just below her knees like opening flower petals. Actually, Lily was quite proud of herself.

"Oh, Vernon, I'm so sorry!" Petunia was now fussing over the man next to her. He was slightly chubby and sporting a ridiculous brown moustache, fending off her attempts at cleaning his jacket impatiently. "Don't worry, dear," he said. "My dry cleaner will have that stain out in a jiffy and if he doesn't, I'm sure Mr. Grunnings will be perfectly happy to sponsor a new suit for me."

Lily felt herself blushing. Of course, she was embarrassed that her appearance seemed to have caused such a stir, but mostly, she was disgusted. First, by the fuss made about such an awful brown tweed jacket and second, by the mention of Vernon's dry cleaner like some sort of personal slave. And who was this Mr. Grunnings person?

When Petunia finally had ceased her clucking and paused to dart a poisonous look at Lily, Vernon finally looked up at her too. She saw his eyes take in everything from her dress, her red hair to her bare feet and then back up to her face. His own was round and thick-necked, with small eyes. Their expression was unreadable.

Unnoticed, Mrs. Evans had stepped up next to Lily and put her hands on her younger daughter's shoulders. "Lily," she said gently, "I want you to meet Vernon. Vernon, my younger daughter Lily."

"How do you do?" said Vernon rather pompously, extending a hand.

"Fine, thank you." Lily shook his hand, feeling uncomfortable. The man's eyes were still scrutinising her and Lily couldn't help it – she felt like she was being assessed like a probable business project. And she wasn't sure the assessment was favourable …

"Now then," said Mrs. Evans, releasing Lily's shoulders with a slight squeeze, "why don't we all sit down and get started on the salad?"

And so they all sat. Conversation wasn't quite as stiff as usual these days, for Petunia hardly ceased in a stream of compliments and anecdotes about Vernon, whom she stared at with the doe-eyed admiration of certain stupid Hogwarts girls when they were looking at Sirius Black, though Petunia's boyfriend possessed none of the other boy's undeniable physical appeal. Apparently, Vernon had just been promoted this very week and between the toasts to his new position as junior manager of a small factory near London, Lily felt herself relax very slightly. Petunia was completely ignoring her and Vernon, caught up in his own success, didn't ask her anything until desert arrived and with it a certain change in the mood that befitted their food: vanilla parfait sprinkled with lavender and little honey cakes.

"You are still in school then, eh, Lily?" asked Vernon, taking a bite of his cake. "When do you finish?"

"I'm starting my last year soon," said Lily a little reservedly, unsure of how much information to give. She could feel Petunia watching her avidly.

"Splendid. Which school is it you go to?" he pressed. "A name one would have heard?" From his tone, Lily could tell she was being assessed. And since she had to lie anyway – otherwise breaking the International Statute of Secrecy – why not make it a grand one?

And so she replied in her most casual voice: "Oh, I board at Hennersham Girls' School, actually. So I only come home for the summer and if I need some quiet to study."

She felt more than saw her family's eyebrows rise collectively. Hennersham's just happened to one of the finest girls' schools in the country, students from there usually predestined to get a degree at Oxford or Cambridge. There was no way her family would ever be able to afford something like that.

This, however, Vernon didn't know, so he was merely impressed and did not notice the reactions around him. "Headed to Oxbridge, then?" he asked, predictably.

To her surprise, Lily noticed that she was rather enjoying herself. Petunia, next to her boyfriend, was positively quivering with nervous energy, but she could not change whatever Lily wanted to say. It was a heady sense of power the young witch had never experienced before. Well, maybe that one time she'd put James Potter in detention …

"Lily?" Mrs. Evans prompted.

"Oh, right. Oxbridge. Yes." Lily brushed a strand of hair from her face, her smile widening as the questions continued. When Vernon wanted to know what she was going to study, she was a little thrown at first, then said, "Teacher" without thinking and surprising herself by thinking she would rather like to _really_ be one, though maybe for Potions or Charms …

The next few minutes passed with Lily happily inventing a series of friends she didn't have, scholarships she had received and internships she had done. To her own ear, she sounded mightily impressive and Vernon seemed to be agreeing to her. And Lily, quite despite her usual self, felt thrilled that he would soon begin comparing her to her sister and seeing that Petunia was not as high and mighty as she might have seemed to him. From Petunia's paling face, this thought seemed to have struck her, too.

It was only when she reached across the table to grab another honey cake that things started going wrong.

"Is everything all right with your dress?" Vernon asked suddenly.

"My dress?" Lily glanced down at her sleeve, thinking a bit of ice cream may have gotten smeared there and then feeling her heart plummet. Grey was beginning to show at the bottom, creeping up the sleeve to her elbow. The charm must be wearing off.

Panicking, Lily dropped her arm beneath the table. "My dress is fine, of course," she said with a forced smile. "Nothing the matter."

"No, but the colour was changing –," began Vernon in confusion, but Mrs. Evans, who had seen Lily's mishap, jumped in: "How about a nightcap, everyone? It's getting a little late, don't you think?" She glanced around the table. "Eggnog?"

Petunia stared at her mother in revulsion. "Eggnog?"

"But look!" said Vernon in excitement and fear, pointing at Lily. "It's changing in the front, too! _Look_!"

Lily needed only another glance at her chest to know he was right. In a second, she was on her feet. "Excuse me, but I'm not feeling well. I must – I must get to bed."

"Why is your dress changing colour?" persisted Vernon, quite forgetting himself and getting to his feet to follow her. He seemed to have recovered from his initial fear and was trying to cover it up with arrogance. "Are you trying to sass me, girlie? Don't you lie to me!"

"Vernon!" Petunia clung to his arm, desperation in her voice. "It's nothing. Sit down, _please_."

Lily, who had half-turned away from the table, felt her heart tighten at Petunia's tone. She sounded petulant, almost frightened, and instantly she felt sorry for her behaviour. The brief selfish impulse had vanished and all she wanted was to run around the table and hug Petunia and apologise.

"But it's _still_ changing!" Vernon was now almost shouting. "She's sparkling." He sounded half-fascinated and half-revolted. "Someone get a fire extinguisher."

Lily stumbled forwards into the sitting room, her hands desperately trying to hide the sparks now flying off her whirling skirts as the spell seemed was reversing itself. But Vernon was charging after her like an angry bull, pointing his finger and shouting, "ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME, GIRL? IS THIS SASS? ANSWER – ME!" He was dragging Petunia behind him, Mr. and Mrs. Evans bringing up the rear. They all looked panicked.

"It's not fire," stammered Lily, holding up her hands and backing away. "And I'm not making fun of you, I swear. I – I-" She couldn't find words. How should she explain to him that this was, quite simply, magic? And magic done to impress him?

"STOP IT NOW! Stop it, I say! No one makes fun of Vernon Dursley!" Vernon was trying to grab a hold of her, to shake her, Lily thought. Only Petunia hanging on his arm like a sack and shrieking was preventing Vernon from doing it.

"I _can't_," said Lily, half-sobbing. She felt helpless, her hands brushing hopelessly over her dress, which was shedding striped bits of garment in colourful sparks, wishing for a wand or _anything_. "I'm not making fun. I just can't control it. This wasn't supposed to happen, I don't know what –" Her eyes went to her parents. "I'm sorry, Mum. I'm _sorry_!"

"Leave her alone, Vernon," implored Mrs. Evans, trying to reach for the young man's shoulder. "She's not well."

He rounded on her, eyes sparkling with fury. "So your daughter's a crazy then, is she? A _madwoman_?"

Lily had stopped in the sitting room, still sparkling, knowing she should be running, getting as far away as she could. But she had felt something inside her crack just now, filling her with cold liquid and freezing her to the spot, making her shoulders sag and her eyes burn. It felt just like it had all those years ago, when Petunia had called her a freak. Like someone had slapped her across the face.

Mrs. Evans had tears in her eyes as she looked at her younger daughter, powerless. Mr. Evans was silent, too, arms wrapped around his wife. And Vernon was just staring at her.

Lily knew she was crazy for having wanted this brutish man's approval, but the disgust now shining in his eyes made her realise exactly what she had been hoping for: maybe through him, Petunia would have seen her as less of a monster, as someone worth loving again. If she loved him so much, and he liked Lily …

But those hopes were dashed.

"You're _sick_," spat Vernon. His moustache was bristling. "I fear I must seriously reconsider my proposal of marrying a member of this family."

"_Vernon_ –" Petunia's arm had dropped from her boyfriend's arm and she looked on the verge of tears or simply fainting. "What are you saying?"

"What I said," he told her shortly, not looking at her even as tears began to spill down her cheeks in earnest, smearing her mascara. "Thank you for the dinner," he added to nobody in particularly and then pushed past Lily into the doorway. A second later, the front door slammed and there was utter silence.


	5. Chapter 5: Drinking Games

**A.N.: **Hello everyone!I hope I haven't made you wait long, but this chapter needed a lot of T.L.C before it was done ;) I really hope you like it and you have as much love reading it as I did writing it :D Major events are unfolding, so sit tight, Jily-lovers, you might like this one : )

If you have the time – I love reviews!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, that credit goes to JKR. Just love 'em.

Chapter 5

"Drinking Games"

"Tuney." Lily stood forlornly in the dim dining room, her dress still sparkling and face pale. She could feel her family's breathing, Petunia's rapid and sharp, her mother's sigh and even her father as he drew in the air as if it could fortify him against whatever was coming next. "Tuney, I'm so sorry."

"Don't." Petunia lifted her hands as if to fend her off, voice tight with tears. "Don't call me that anymore."

Lily felt her shoulders sag, the strength and terror washing out of her. She had failed. Petunia hated her more than ever now, her parents were disappointed and all because of one stupid spell! What had she been thinking? "I'm so sorry," she tried again, stepping towards her sister, wanting to comfort but not quite daring to. "I don't know how this happened. I didn't mean it, I swear. My charms usually work - "

"Don't make me laugh!" interrupted Petunia. "That hokus pokus you do – Mum and Dad should be glad you haven't managed to blow your head off yet."

"Petunia-," began Mrs. Evans, just as Lily, desperate to explain herself, cried: "But that's not true at all, Tuney! We learn to control our magic at Hogwarts. That spell I just did – I learned how to do it this year and it's always worked until now –"

"Oh, it did, did it?" sneered Petunia. "That's just so _wonderful_ for you, Lily! Just perfect and exactly what I needed to know – your spellwork. And while we're at it: I'm really _dying_ to hear about some essay Professor Flitwick set you or that you finally managed to do that really difficult Transfiguration spell you've been practicing for _weeks. _But with all the great things you're learning, Lily, couldn't you learn to keep your head down and think about someone else for one – single – dinner?"

"Petunia –," Mrs. Evans tried again, starting forwards, but Mr. Evans held her back, murmuring something the girls couldn't hear.

Lily only had eyes for her sister anyway. She hadn't really heard the last remarks Petunia had hurled at her; her brain had started whirring at the mention of Professor Flitwick. "You _did_ read them," she half-whispered, astounded. "You did read my letters."

"I - what?" snapped Petunia. Then, stiffening: "I didn't read anything." Lily imagined her face colouring, though it was obscured by the deepening darkness in the dining room. No one had made a move to put on the lights.

"You did!" Suddenly, inexplicably, Lily felt a lift in her chest. Despite the sparkling dress, the mess this dinner had been, despite all that, at least Petunia had read her letters. She _did_ care about Lily after all! In that instant, Lily forgot all about her shame and distress. "I wrote to you about Flitwick's essay in February," she said, "and I was practicing the Transfiguration spell you're talking about for my OWL's just a few weeks ago. You couldn't have known that because I never talked about it this summer. She read them," she repeated, amazed, to her parents, who offered embarrassed half-smiles, like they were unsure whether they should intervene or if this conversation might still be saved. Mrs. Evans actually looked hopeful.

"What does it matter if I did?" said Petunia, who seemed to have recovered her icy composure in Lily's distracted delight. There was no trace of embarrassment in her voice now. "They were just more proof of what you are. Wonderful, exotic Lily in all her magical magnificence, bragging to Mum and Dad about all your adventures – what a show you make of yourself." She paused to wipe at her eyes, probably erasing a stream of mascara. Her return to the usual put-together demeanor of Petunia the Unshakable was rapid. "I knew what you were - I've known since we were children and you took off with that weird boy in his flappy clothes – that you and I would never be alike again. You chose the freaks, Lily, and I chose a respectable life. No matter how much you try to sugar-coat it – you're an abnormality, Lily, you're the _bad_ _egg_." Her eyes glittered with contempt. "And now you've come home and you've seen that I'm finally happy and of course that can't be tolerated – it would take away your spotlight."

Lily was aghast. How could Petunia be saying these things about her? The tiny, treacherous bubble of happiness and hope that had risen in her chest had erupted in a shower of eyes. _You're an abnormality. You're the bad egg. _"I never meant to hurt you," she said very quietly. "I was just trying to make - to make a good impression. I was trying to be good - for _you_." She bit her lip. "I don't want to make a show of myself. I just want us to be proper sisters."

"Well, we'll never be," said Petunia with finality. "All my life I've had to watch as everyone cooed over you, over that cute, bright little girl with that special hair. And even worse things when you had to go off to your freak school." (Even after all these years, she wouldn't call it 'Hogwarts'.) "Every day I came home to Mum and Dad fawning over your letters and now, when there's finally one person who sees _me_ as something special, who thinks _I'm_ wonderful for a change, and you've turned him against me." Lily felt her last words like slap: "I don't want you to be my sister."

"But I want you in my life!" cried Lily, feeling tears spring to her eyes. "I didn't want to make you feel like this, I _swear_! All I do is try and –" She broke off, feeling choked.

"Well, I don't want you in my life," said Petunia. "I want a _normal_ life."

Behind her, Mrs. Evans was crying. "Petunia, please," she sobbed. "She said she's sorry. There's – there's no need –"

Petunia didn't turn to her mother, didn't make a reply. Instead, she looked Lily up and down, in her grey dress, stained with wine from when she had upset it getting up from the stable so hastily, red hair in a tangle half-way down her back and cheeks stained with mascara she hadn't realised was running.

"You don't belong in our world anymore," Petunia said. "You haven't for year and I won't stop saying what I think: Me and Vernon, we're respectable people and we will live a respectable, _normal_ life together." She took a deep breath and for a second, Lily felt her sister's anxiety under that calm, cold demeanor. She felt the questions pounding through her head, felt trying not to panic: _How do I explain this to Vernon? Will he ever forgive me? Have I lost him forever?_

And then, for the second time that night, Lily stood still as someone pushed past her, only this time it was Petunia, her bony shoulders tight and her face pinched. They listened as she ran up the stairs, though there was no sound of a door slamming. Even in a situation like this, she would be thinking about what the neighbours would say.

"Lily." Mr. Evans, who had been silent all this time, spoke into the silence. He sounded like he was trying to calm a wild animal. Lily wondered why. Was she shaking? "Lily, she's had a shock and so has Vernon. We'll explain it all to him – it was an accident, that's all. Not your fault."

"It was though, wasn't it?" said Lily very quietly. "I could have just worn that dress, or a different one. There was no _bloody_ need to transfigure myself." She took a deep breath. "Petunia's right, I am a show-off."

She didn't want to look at her parents, didn't want to see her mother's tear-stained face and the wreck of the terrace or listen to Petunia's frantic voice on the phone upstairs. All she wanted to do was run, just like she had wanted to that afternoon. Only this time she didn't pause, didn't try to make herself stay. She just turned on her heels and bolted, right out the front door.

_(Several hours later)_

„Oi, Prongs!" Sirius was shaking James by the shoulder, a huge grin spread over his face. "You've _got_ to come and look at this, mate."

James gave a grunt and tried to shake off Sirius's hands, muttering something about "annoying people", "attention-seeking" and "just trying to have a quiet drink here".

Sirius barked with laughter, a habit he had picked up in their early Animagus days that only seemed to be getting more pronounced - James often thought Sirius did this to annoy people and in this case, that was certainly his goal. "You don't want to miss this," said Sirius to his best friend now, "trust me."  
"But I'm havin' sucha good conversation," protested James, his words coming out slurred as he gestured to the one-eyed troll sitting in a torn cloak next to him and glaring at Sirius.

"You a Black?" grunted the troll.

"Unfortunately," replied Sirius in an offhand voice, though he felt slightly uncomfortable. Had his father gone after trolls on this year's hunt, then? "Though I must say, I am _much_ more handsome than my relatives, don't you agree?"

The troll eyed Sirius as though he were seriously contemplating the answer to that question and the wizard took the opportunity to elbow James in the side. "Listen here, Prongs," he muttered out of the corner of his voice under the pretense of fluttering grinning flirtatiously up at the troll, "I don't want to get in a fight with Mr. Grunty here, so would you kindly oblige me and come back to the front with me?"

James, who, judging from the three empty glasses in front of him, had had a great deal of firewhisky and was feeling the effects, sighed. "'Kay. See ya, Garbold," he said to the troll, giving a half-wave and almost falling off the barstool as he clambered off. "Whoo, floor's moving around a lot today, Padf'."

"Honestly, Prongs," said Sirius, annoyed, slinging his arm around his friend and dragging him to the curtain separating the front and back parlour, where the shadier parts of Godric's Hollow met up to play cards and trade half-legal goods. "I really hope you are sober to appreciate the spectactle up front."

"Spectacle?"

"Yeah," said Sirius with a snort of laughter as he finally wrenched back the curtain. The front parlour was full of people and loud music was playing. A crowd seemed to have gathered, half-obscuring their view of a figure in a very tight, grey dress and flaming hair, hopping around on a table in the center of the room and singing at the top of her voice.

James's draw dropped.

"As you can see," said Sirius, dropping his friend's arm from his shoulder and massaging it, "Lily Evans has decided to give us a little show."

_(Three hours previously)_

"Evans? What brings you here?" Sirius Black dropped down in the empty barstool, sweeping back his dark hair. A sly smile played around the corners of his mouth as he looked her up and down. "And might I say, you _do_ look ravishing in that dress."

Lily glanced down at her stained, too-short dress. Too tired to think of a cutting reply, she just sighed and took a gulp of her drink (Firewhisky, he noted). "Go away, Black."

Sirius was surprised. Lily Evans was usually among the girls to shoot him down for a remark like the one he had just made. At Hogwarts, she might even have given him a detention. But what was this? A Lily Evans with her hair all rumpled, her dress ruined and a sickly pale face, all her usual vibrancy and cattishness evaporated. He hated to admit it, but it worried him. Not being good at emotional talks, Sirius cleared his throat. "Do you want me to get Moony?"

Lily looked up from her glass. "Moony?"

God, was she drunk already? "Moony, Lupin, Remus, whatever," said Sirius impatiently. "Your fellow prefect. Shall I get him?"

The redhead considered this proposition for a minute. Remus was nice and understanding, kind. Quite opposite from brash, insensitive Sirius Black with his comments on her dress and the way he was looking around for Nora. She wouldn't get any understanding from _this_ Gryffindor, but did she want it? Making a decision, Lily swigged down the rest of her firewhisky.

"No," she said. "I want you to stay here and drink with me."

"Drink? With you? What, now?"

"Yes, _now_," said Lily. This time, she was impatient. "I want to get _really_ drunk. Like you Marauders always do. Drunk until you forget, you know?"

He didn't know, but nodded anyway. This could be interesting, more interesting than losing his money to that pushy warlock in the other barroom anyway. "What are you drinking?" he asked.

"Firewhisky, and you know it," she replied and he was relieved to note her usual snappishness was returning. Or maybe it was just dry humour and he had never really noticed before? Her next words seemed to support his hypothesis: "Suits my hair, you know."

"So, you want another?" he asked.

"If you're paying. I don't have any money," she admitted in a low voice.

Sirius grinned. "So who paid for the first one?"

"The barman," said Lily, pointing to the hump-backed fellow at the other end of the bar who was cleaning glasses. There weren't many customers around yet, only a few middle-aged wizards in a corner toasting a birthday and wearing brightly coloured hats. "But I wouldn't count it as flirting," she added, "since I was crying and he said something along the lines of, 'Need to toughen you up for the real world, Duck' when he gave it to me."

"_Duck_?" Sirius actually laughed at this. "That was like a declaration of everlasting love from Petey."

"What'cha sayin', Black?" called the barman, having caught his name.

"We'll have another two of the red ones," called Sirius back. He looked quite at ease now, ordering drinks for them both. Lily looked at him sideways, hoping he wasn't thinking she fancied him.

The barman seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he threw Sirius a sour look. "He your boyfriend, Duck? Hope he didn't break your heart and come back to apologise now. Look at the state ya put her in, poor thing!"

"Oh, we're not together," said Sirius unashamedly, giving Lily a false, doting look one might reserve for a sister. "We're in the same house at Hogwarts and we've just decided to get drunk together."

"Or maybe just a little," interjected Lily, who was feeling unsure of herself now. What was she doing here anyway? Her mother would be worried sick … But then again, Tuney was back at the house, too, ready to face Lily with insults and that awful, cold look on her face. _Bad egg. Abnormality. Show-off._

"So, you don't want to talk about what happened to you then, Evans?" asked Sirius in a conversational tone as their drinks arrived in two long, slim glasses. Petey was still looking between the two of them with apprehension, which Lily decided to ignore.

"Quite right," she said in a clipped tone and swallowed down the drink in two quick gulps before Sirius had even raised his glass. "Tonight, I just want to drink."

"But would you mind if I used _Tergio_ on your face, Evans?" asked the wizard. "You do look a little woebegone, if I may say so."

"Wasn't I ravishing just minute ago?"

"Ah, I see, you're not that drunk yet," he said with a smile. "I was checking. But seriously – and don't make a pun of that, James has done it a trillion times already – _Tergio_." He flicked his wand as he said this and Lily felt warmth pass over her face as the tear streaks and make-up were cleaned away. She felt instantly better and ready for another drink. "Maybe blue this time?" she asked.

Sirius was getting worried.

_(About two hours later)_

"And another, Evans! You only said 'bony babbit' _nineteen_ times, we all heard!" said Peter Pettigrew in a rather shrill voice, his cheeks highly coloured as the red head grabbed her glass. She didn't know when Peter and Remus had joined her and Sirius exactly, not when Marlene and Nora had turned up ("Your Mum called and told us you'd taken off!" – "Gosh, Lily, what are you _wearing_?"), though both coincided with Sirius explaining the key points of a drinking game called "Hairy Hag" to her over something like her sixth blue drink. Somehow they had all found themselves crammed in a corner booth, with James Potter fortunately nowhere to be found (off gambling in the back parlour with some shady fellow, Lily assumed). And so the game had commenced, the rules being as follows: every round, a bottle was spun and someone picked a word paired with a matching adjective that had the same first letter ("An _alliteration_," Remus sighed wearily as Sirius explained this, though no one would listen) and then the bottle was spun again to seek out a person who had to say the two words as many times as the round they were in. If you said the two words too often or too little, you had to drink, simple as that. And then there was one special rule: On every seventh round, no matter what number round they were in, everyone had to say Hairy Hag seven times as quickly as possible and the slowest one lost. The fantastic thing about the game was that it was impossible to check how many times some had actually said the particular alliteration and so it was more a game of accusations flying around and who could defend themselves best. Sirius was loudest, Peter was shrillest and Remus the most reasonable. The three girls were simply having too much fun to worry about arguments. And so, with the rules being so simple and so easily confused at the same time, they were all (except Remus) very, very drunk very soon and their wallets a great deal lighter.

To her surprise, Lily had found that, without James, she liked the boys a great deal. Peter was incredibly silly and blushed whenever Marlene addressed him directly, Sirius had a surprisingly self-deprecating sense of humour mixed in with his usual layer of blown-up confidence and slight haughtiness (which Lily was starting to suspect was an act), and Remus was much more easy-going than in school, though there was still a careful kind of reserve in his eyes. Alone among them all, he had managed not to get drunk.

The best part of the evening when the thing about the band came out.

"So you're going to be like _The Sonnetiers_?" giggled Marlene, whose cheeks were bright red and whose hair had come out of its customary ponytail.

Peter giggled too, which sounded ridiculous, and Nora began to sing a very carrying voice, _"Oh, rosebud, love of miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" _At this, Remus smiled and the birthday partner in the corner across scowled from under their sparkling hats.

When they had all calmed down a little bit, Lily turned to Remus and asked, "Are you _really_ forming a band, Remus, or is Sirius just being big-headed again?"

Sirius frowned. "Of course we are. We are going to the rock sensation of the year."

"Well, I think that award should go to Crashing Ravens, don't you think?" said Nora dryly. Even drunk, her annoyed her, yet that party and how they'd snogged … he _was_ handsome, she couldn't help but admit that to herself and there were worse people to have snogged, but _still_. Sirius Arrogant-toerag Black, who was now bowing to her in mock defeat.. "Quite right, mylady, I won't contest that. But we could just become Crashing Ravens' supporting act for their big concert in September."

"Wow, that's incredible!" gasped Lily. "You're going for that contest in the _Lightning Bolt_, then? That's so, so great!" She beamed. "Really!"

"_You_ read the _Lightning Bolt_?" asked Sirius, who could hold his liquor better than the other Gryffindor.

"Of course she does," interrupted Marlene, who could tell there was only gushing to be got from Lily now. "She plays the guitar. Don't you remember her accompanying the choir at Christmas?"

"There was a choir at Christmas?" asked Sirius but Peter piped up, "Your voice was really beautiful, Marlene!"

"Oh, er, thanks, Peter," she said, smoothing back her hair a little and looking confused. Being in Ravenclaw, she didn't know the boys very well - mostly from Lily and Nora's tales – so Peter Pettigrew knowing about her singing in the choir and then remembering her voice especially puzzled her, though it _was_ nice.

"So, you're going to play rock then, are you?" asked Nora and when Sirius and Remus nodded, she eyed them. "What's your band name?"

There was a pause. "We haven't got one yet," said Peter. "But it will be something _cool_."

"How about this," said Nora and there was a vicious glint in her eyes as she leaned forward, "we spin that bottle another time and the person it hits has to shout out a matching word and adjective-" ("Alliteration," groaned Remus) "-and you have to take _that_ as your band name." Her eyes met Sirius, a wordless challenge.

"I don't know," said Remus uneasily before Sirius could speak. "Maybe we should wait until Prongs is around. I mean, he's part of the band, too, so it wouldn't really be fair-"

"No, come on, it will be fun!" cried Lily, emptying her glass in one swig and staring around at them with bright eyes and a huge smile. "I'll spin it!" Just like that, she had made the decision for them all. With one sure notion, surprisingly controlled for her current state, she sent the bottle spinning and it landed squarely on her.

"Oh," she said in surprise. And before anyone could protest, she had shouted out, "Mischief makers!"

"What?" said Peter.

"Nice one!" said Sirius.

"I like it," said Remus. He smiled at Lily. "But how about we put a 'the' in front and call our band 'The Mischief Makers'?"

She blushed, being asked her opinion so seriously. "Of course," she said. "It's your band. I mean, you could call it something different, if you want –"

"No," said Sirius, to everyone's surprise. "It's perfect, actually. And we should drink to that. Evans, another?"

_(Several hours later, back to where we started)_

"She likes firewhisky," said Sirius. "And she's not a boring rule-abider."

James stared at the dancing girl on the table, her hair whipping around as she shouted for the barman to turn the music louder, then back at his best friend. "When did this happen?"

"Actually, you can take your pick," said the black-haired Gryffindor. "A game of Hairy Hag, naming our band and then discovering Lily's love for muggle bands all contributed." Seeing James's disbelieving stare, he added, "You can miss a lot playing gobstones over a few galleons, Prongs."

"So I see," was all James said. It was hard to read his face because the expressions on it kept changing from amusement, to worry, to curiosity, to annoyance and back again. A few moments later, it almost looked like he would get his mouth open again, but then several things happened at the same time.

First, Lily stumbled on the table. She threw up her hands and flailed through the air, towards the edge of the table.

Second, James sprang. He literally burst forward, arms outstretched. Sirius watched him move, fast as a flash, towards the table. It should have been impossible, but he managed to cross the room, move through the crowd and catch the falling redhead in his arms before anyone else could come to her aid.

She blinked. "Oh, I fell." It was a long moment, her cradled in his arms, red hair spilling all over his arms and those green eyes staring up at him in unfocused attention.

He stiffened, as the realisation of what he had just done struck home. Lily Evans. The boring rule-abider. "Yes, you did."

Lily blinked. "You smell like smoke," she said, her voice a little garbled. "You never used to when we were kids. More like cinnamon and leaves. Do you smoke now?"

James didn't really know what to say. What did you say to someone you had just saved from breaking their neck, especially if you didn't get along? "Glad you didn't die, not get away from me!"? He tried it out in his head but it sounded wrong. But answering that silly question would be just as bad. He wished someone would step in and help him out but somehow, it was very quiet around them, no one really making a sound. Where had the music gone? "Er-"

"I named your band," she went on. "'The Mischief Makers'. It's an alliteration."

"Wha-," James began, but before he could ask her what in Merlin's name she was talking, she closed her green eyes and her body went limp.

"James?" The noise was back and people were crowding around. "Is she okay?" He wondered if the people had been there all the time, because they were really making quite a racket. "Is she hurt?" – "Boy, you were fast!" – "We have to take her home!" – "Can you keep carrying her like that? I think she's sleeping."

If James Potter had wondered what he would be doing at one o'clock on this very night – and he wasn't a person inclined to do this, but bear with me – he would probably have laughed very heartily about a description of the events that led him to be carrying an unconscious Lily Evans through the dark streets of Godric's Hollow with a stream of people following behind him. But as it was, he was doing just that, with the newfound knowledge that he had smelled like cinnamon and leaves as a kid. And instead of laughing, he did something different and much quieter that no one saw. He kind of smiled.


End file.
